Jahvie one shots
by somewhat-punk-rock
Summary: these are various Jahvie one shots and i guess they are all kinda sad
1. Chapter 1

It has been a long four years.

Four fucking years, and in that time, I have done nothing with my life.

I model, sure.

I go out sometimes.

But I can't remember the last time I was happy.

The last time my stomach was full of butterflies and I felt high off of his touch.

The last time I actually loved somebody other than him.

Nobody really worries about me anymore, honestly.

All our friends were his friends first, and even though they stop by every now and then, I'm sure it's out of pity.

He still makes music, I'm sure.

He's probably out right now, doing a show or meeting fans or doing _something_; while I just try and focus on getting through the days.

Every now and then, I get stopped on the street, an old fan who'll smile and laugh and ask for a picture.

And I'll smile.

I'll hug them close and tell them to never lose sights of their hopes and dreams.

Because I did, and it cost me everything.

I fell in love with somebody I couldn't have, and when reality sunk in I lost it.

I spiraled down to the point where I could've woken up dead and nobody would think anything of it.

I mean, if I turned back to the drugs or stopped eating again or started maiming my flesh and died, I'd be a washed up rockstar who died.

If it was this year, I'd join the 27 club.

But, I'm still here, even if it's barely.

Maybe one day I'll be able to hear his name without tasting his lips on mine.

Stop feeling his hair running through my fingers.

Stop hearing his laugh in everything.

Stop turning around in the middle of the day, damn sure I saw his bright hair a few steps back, and it ends up being a balloon.

Stop seeing him in everything.

But I, Jayy Von Monroe, am utterly pathetic.

And I doubt I can stop my heart from being as empty as it is now.


	2. Chapter 2

He hung roses from his window, and he never said why.

But everybody knew.

He hung them in honor of his lost love.

He hung them because the love of his life had married another, while he had just smiled and played best man.

He hung them because they used to live together and grew roses on the side of the house.

He hung them because he knew that he couldn't ever have him back.

And Dahvie knew that he could never have him.

But he still missed him.

He missed how when they toured and they both were still up, Jayy would crawl into his bunk and they'd talk until sunrise.

He missed how Jayy would hold his hand, even though it was for friendship.

He missed their shared kisses, even though they were just for the stage and the fans.

He missed his Jayy too much too function, but he never told him.

They talked a lot, even though they had split the band a while back.

Dahvie did most of the talking honestly, and every time, he'd come close to telling him the truth.

That he missed him every fucking day.

That he wanted to go back in time and tell him that he loved him.

That he couldn't go off and and marry Brett.

But it was almost time for him to go meet Jayy for the first time in months.

He hadn't had the time in months, but he had forced himself to make it.

So he pulled out of his driveway and made his way through the streets, and he finally ended up at the house they used to share.

Jayy was sitting on the porch smoking.

Brett's car was gone.

And Dahvie was there.

And when Jayy heard the crunch of leaves under the tires, he looked up.

And when he saw it was Dahvie he smiled.

Dahvie got out of his car and made his way to Jayy, who stomped out his cigarette and stood up.

"I haven't seen you in…" Jayy thought before looking back at Dahvie. "Too fucking long."

"Yeah."

"You wanna come in?"

"Sure." Dahvie followed Jayy inside and made himself at home on the couch next to Jayy.

"Sorry about the mess, but I've been changing a few things."

"What does Brett think of it?"

Jayy winced and pulled away from Dahvie as the name left his tongue. "He and I are done."

"What happened?"

"I thought he loved me enough to stop his string of side lovers, but I was wrong."

Dahvie put an arm around Jayy's shoulder and Jayy leaned into him.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Well hey, look at me."

Jayy looked at Dahvie through his lashes and Dahvie kissed his forehead.

"I'm going to be here for you, okay?"

And Dahvie knew he wouldn't really ever tell Jayy that he was head over heels in love with him.

But Jayy needed a friend right now, and he was damn sure going to be the best one he could.


	3. Chapter 3

"Jayy, I can't fucking forgive you for this!"

Dahvie was half screaming/half crying, and Jayy was hungover.

"It was just _one_ guy."

"And I guess I was one of them, huh? Do I not mean anything to you?"

"Stop yelling, please. It hurts."

Dahvie sighed and stormed out of their apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Jayy was still sitting at the table, and slumped down.

He fucked up big time, and he _knew_ it.

He shouldn't have gotten trashed at the club.

He shouldn't have let that boy put his hands everywhere.

He shouldn't have let him kiss him, and he certainly shouldn't have kissed back.

He shouldn't have fucked him in the bathroom of the bar.

He shouldn't have brought him back to his and Dahvie's apartment to 'keep the fun going'.

He shouldn't have yelled at Dahvie when he woke up hungover, naked, and entangled in somebody else's arms.

And he shouldn't have brought up his feelings when Dahvie was breaking down in front of him.

But he did.

He fucked himself over and he couldn't get back into anybody's good graces anymore.

So he did something different.

He took a quick shower and got dressed, and went out looking for Dahvie.

He was going to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness.

He wasn't going to get it, though.

But he was going to try.

He left in his ripped skinnies and a tank top, and the minute he walked outside, he faced the pouring rain.

He turned left and started to search for somewhere Dahvie would go to escape the rain.

Every coffee shop, music store, and anywhere open he walked in and around, searching for the love of his life.

He walked around for two hours before he found Dahvie.

Dahvie was in a diner, talking to some bottle blond waitress who was pouring him coffee and rubbing his shoulder gently.

Jayy was soaking wet, and his hair was dripping into his eyes.

But he walked in, and when the bell rang, announcing his arrival, Dahvie looked up.

He looked away and back to the waitress, and went on talking.

Jayy walked right up to the booth where he was sitting and slid in across from him.

"I am so sorry."

Dahvie shook his head and the waitress gave him a plastic smile. "You want coffee? Or a towel?"

"Uh, both please."

And she walked back into the kitchen, leaving the pair alone.

"I'm really sorry, and I know you probably won't ever forgive me. But I need you to know how sorry I am."

Dahvie said nothing.

"I fucked up big time, but I love you. And I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you by my side."

"Well I guess you're going to find out."

Dahvie got up and left the diner, walking out into the thunderstorms and lighting flashes.

Jayy was left there, sitting in a puddle of rainwater and with a towel around his shoulders.

He let his coffee grow cold, and when he paid and left, he didn't know what to do.

He got a hotel room for one for the night, and crawled into the king sized bed that felt way too empty without Dahvie next to him.

He didn't want to wake up the next morning, but he did.

And he quietly snuck back into the apartment they used to share and got his car keys before driving out of town.

He never really came back, even when he returned a few months later, with a hardened jaw and a few new tattoos.


	4. Chapter 4

*trigger warning- self harm and suicide*

He never thought he could be so sick of seeing his own face.

But every time he looked in the mirror, his stomach twisted with hate.

He was a walking reminder that Dahvie was off married to some bottle blond skank with a nose job and fake tits, because she couldn't keep her legs shut and got pregnant by somebody else.

And that Dahvie was too 'blinded by love' to realize that the kid wasn't his.

And that Jayy knew that the kid wasn't his best friends, but fuck, he couldn't say that.

So every time Dahvie called him at two in the morning because the baby was crying and Valerie was 'out', Jayy would drag himself out of bed and shower the drunkenness away.

And then he'd get a cab to Dahvie's place and hold the baby and change its diapers while Dahvie got to shower.

He'd make dinner for the three of them, and drink a bit and then he and Dahvie would end up sleeping in the master bedroom while the baby slept away in the crib next to the bed.

And Valerie would shake Jayy awake in the morning and demand he leave, because she was the one Dahvie loved and it was _her_ house, not his.

And Jayy would call another cab and go back to his flat to drown his sorrows in whiskey and weed and a boy or two, because he needed to feel loved by somebody.

Even if it was somebody whose name he didn't know and had no real want to know.

Even if he'd wake up with a pounding headache, naked, and smelling of sweat and booze and smoke.

Even if he'd end up shaking with body-racking sobs when he stayed home alone, with bloodied knuckles and maybe a few slashes to the forearm.

And then Dahvie would call again, maybe a day later, maybe a week later.

And his heart would soar until the next morning.

And when he glanced into the mirror hanging in the hallway of Dahvie's place, his stomach would sink.

And he'd realize that he really wasn't needed by anybody.

After one of these times, he was too fucking fed up with it all.

He went into the bathroom and shattered the mirror, and picked up the shards.

He took his time tracing his flesh with them, and when the blood splattered on the floor, he still wasn't satisfied.

He slashed the palms of his hands opposed to his wrists and cried out in the pain.

He wasn't dead yet.

He stopped for a minute to look in the shattered mirror, and dozens of Jayy's looked back at him.

Their eyes were empty, their faces gaunt, their will to live lost.

And so he took his blood on his finger and wrote a final message on the bathroom wall, before slicing his main veins vertically.

His last thoughts were along the lines of 'death is a lot easier than falling asleep'.

His phone kept ringing after his heart stopped beating, Dahvie frantically calling, because Valerie 'couldn't take it anymore' and he had no fucking clue how to parent alone.

And after a few hours of calling and messages, Dahvie went to his flat.

He unlocked the door and took steps through the apartment.

It was too quiet for everything to be okay.

And he heard the drip of the faucet in the bathroom and thought maybe Jayy had passed out drunk in the bathroom again.

And so he set down his baby while he went to investigate.

And then he screamed.

His baby cried at Daddy's pain.

Dahvie's knees gave out from shock, and he couldn't take it.

He wanted to join his brother on the bathroom floor, covered in red, because he had lost two of the things he loved the most in one day.

He started sobbing hard then, and the baby kept wailing.

Dahvie took Jayy's head in his arms and brushed the hair from his eyes and tears ran down his face.

Jayy's neighbor got pissed and banged on the door, and was surprised when it gave in, a crying baby in a play-pen and its parents nowhere to be seen.

So he took cautious steps towards the child, and then scooped it into his arms, bouncing it up and down to quiet the screams.

When the baby was quiet, he heard sobs.

Small gasps that come when you're trying too hard to breath.

And so he made his way to the bedroom, and then the kitchen, and then the bathroom.

And he gasped, and pulled out his phone.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"There's been a death, a-a-a suicide."

"Address?"  
He gave them the address and examined the room with a shaking gaze.

One blood covered male, clad in boxer shorts.

One sobbing male, diaper bag next to him, holding the dead one in his arms.

One sentence on the wall in dried blood.

"_I am so sorry_"


End file.
